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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28569114">Force It Down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Binge Eating Disorder, Body Image, Comfort Food, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eating Disorders, Food Issues, Guilt, HEAVY DISCUSSION OF EATING DISORDERS AND SELF HARM, Heavy Angst, Holding Hands, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, James Ironwood Has An Eating Disorder, James Ironwood Needs Therapy, James Ironwood Needs a Hug, James Ironwood-centric, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Volume 7 (RWBY), Weight Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:00:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28569114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James isn't coping. He hasn't been for a long time but he's good at hiding it. That doesn't mean it won't catch up to him.</p><p>Please don't read this if you find any of the tags to be triggering, they're there for a reason.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Qrow Branwen &amp; James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Force It Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It started when he was young, it must have done. That's where it always starts for people as fucked as him. He couldn't pinpoint anywhere else where food started being an escape because there was no real start, that's all it ever had been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents always made food. They weren't as affluent as some of the other families in Atlas, indeed his father taking a job in Atlas was what saved all three of them from slipping into poverty. There was something warm and homey about what his parents made every Sunday. They all sat down together and ate. So maybe that wasn't where the problem started but it was where James first learned to equate food with happiness and good times. Eventually, as his father grew frailer and frailer, the miner's lungs finally catching up to him, James took on the role of breadwinner and man of the house alongside his studies at Atlas Academy. Every Sunday it became his job to go out and buy fresh vegetables and meat to cook- when his paycheque allowed it. So food was a symbol of a job well done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then came war. James remembered cold bones, weak, aching joints, and the shivers that jumped from the spines of one man to the next, never satisfied until they were all freezing. The rations they survived off couldn't have fed a child, nevermind a full grown man fighting for his life every day. James vowed in that time of war that he would protect peace across Remnant so no one ever need feel themself hollow away until skin clung to the underside of their ribs again. The soldiers who that happened to didn't usually survive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His incident was towards the end, actually. Just as light was beginning to show itself on the other side. It was months of toeing the line between life and death, his body completely out of his control as numerous surgeons poked and prodded at how much they needed to carve out of him. The nutrient mush that fed him wasn't food, it was liquid that slid down his throat. He wasn't even conscious to have it. All it did was keep his remaining body parts functioning by giving them no more and no less than what they needed. The rest was turned to metal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a very long time, James survived on less. Less of a body, less food, less happiness. The only thing that did increase was his workload. He rose through the ranks like a steam train, the pride of the Atlesian Military. Yet he still felt like less. Every emotion was pressed down like it didn't exist. His old friends started to notice and most lost interest after that. His new acquaintances, other members of Ozpin's council, thought he had simply always been like that: a cold, less-than man. Perhaps he had wanted to become less enough that he would simply cease to exist. Whatever it was, he was better off being less. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something about the Fall of Beacon changed him. Suddenly, somehow, he couldn't be less anymore. There was too much to compress and parts of him kept slipping out. Parts of him he'd deliberately wanted to ignore. They were painful, all his memories that would sneak up on him and tear ribbons from his mind with claws wicked and sharp as Grimm's. He shed more tears in three months than he had in the past three decades. Then there was the undeniable aching all over, even where he couldn't feel anymore. Whatever he was doing, there it was in the back of his mind, splitting open his skull. James wasn't sure when it started- there was no date to pinpoint- but he learned that he could restore his happiness, temporarily, with food. On Sundays, he cooked. Enough for three but eaten by one. Its warmth sat in his hollow shell and for a while he could forget himself. The ache in his brain was overcome by the ache in his belly, the memories that he feared reduced to fuzz in his mind. His excess made him sleepy, so for once, he could slip off to sleep and escape the shadows that rose in the early hours. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So James could continue his normal life of council meetings, the Ace Ops, and trying to reconstruct the world after the Fall of Beacon while fighting his hidden war against the evils Ozpin had wanted him to. No one noticed his quiet little habit. Why should they? He lived alone, had no personal staff, had no living friends close enough to see. He sometimes wondered if his dead ones were ashamed of him. Most likely, he decided. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something changed again as time went on. Soon enough, his Sunday ritual wasn't enough. As the winter nights drew in, James found himself unable to sleep on even the quietest of nights. So he went and he crouched by his ice-cube dispensing god, the cool breeze of the refrigerator chilling his metal an uncomfortable amount. It didn't matter what worthless crap he found within, the sooner he could force it down his throat, the better. Taste was lost to his mindless haze of just needing to eat until he felt as though he was going to heave his guts. James just kept going, not really aware of what he was doing. He wasn't even hungry, he never was. The food didn't matter, it was the bliss of losing himself to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His metal was made to withstand any inner workings that his body required of it, so it accommodated him as he sat slumped on the kitchen floor, teeth gritted and mind regretful because this was what always came after. Squeezing pain of stomach cramps and nausea always preceded his dozy bliss. He'd suffer through it to get what he was seeking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James knew this was wrong. He'd seen, over the years, autopsy reports and horror stories of young girls with stomachs and oesophaguses torn open because they'd tried to stuff fifteen pounds of food inside in less than an hour. He wasn't like that. He wasn't. James had control over this. It was a way of coping with everything going on. Qrow turned to alcohol, others turned to sex. He wasn't like that, it was just something to help him get by. James let food comfort him, to let each swallow soothe him and slow down his whirring brain at the cost of the damage it did to his body. It was equivalent exchange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone was bound to notice sooner or later so James learned to hide it. He controlled his appearance by hiding under three or four layers at a time, a strong belt that cinched his waist and a thick coat that completely smoothed his silhouette. He even grew a beard. Anything that let him keep going, keep feeling safe and secure with a steady supply of food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was only after the relic of knowledge arrived with teams RWBY, JNR and Oscar and Qrow that James found out how little control he had. He intended to stop now that things were looking up, now that he had more hope on his side. James tried to stop but as he lay on the kitchen floor, body curled around his aching midsection with guilt creeping into his hazy mind, it all clicked together. He was an addict. A bad one. Worse than Qrow, and yet he hadn't even realised. You could stave off alcohol. It was difficult to but if you wanted, you could completely remove it from your life. James couldn't just stop eating food forever. He'd gotten into that awful sort of habit before, going a few days without food and then hounding at the fridge like some starving animal to devour anything in sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James wasn't in control. He never had been. Now his only instinct to deal with the shock of that revelation was to reach once more for food in the hopes that it would comfort him like it always did. He was just so useless on his own, dependent on eating an unhealthy amount. How the fuck was he supposed to stop Salem when he couldn't even control himself? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was... disgusting. He was disgusting and there was nothing he could do about it. Might as well finish what he started and clear out the fridge, even if he cried as he did so and even if he felt as though his stomach was going to burst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So James continued like this. The strength of his resolve during the day was only opposed by his crippling weakness at night. As usual, no one caught on. Or that's what he thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey James?" Qrow asked out of the blue as he finished training with the Ace Ops for the day, "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have dinner tonight? With me, I mean. Nowhere fancy, just my dorm, but I'm an alright cook and we haven't talked in a while." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, no, no, no, no. Make up an excuse. Say you can't come or else-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'd love to," James smiled pleasantly, a warm blush coming to his face that was mirrored by Qrow's. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Great. Do you want to come to mine at around half six? Or seven- I could do seven. Whenever you want." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Half six sounds good to me. I'll see you then," James confirmed. What the fuck was he going to do now? He hadn't eaten in front of another person in almost a year. His stomach churned just at the thought of having to eat in front of someone, especially someone he'd been harbouring feelings for all this time. No doubt Qrow had already noticed how much he'd changed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How was he still doing this? He should have called saying there was an emergency or something. James's mouth felt dry as he knocked on the door to Qrow's dorm, the flowers he brought in one gloved hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's open!" Qrow called, voice muffled due to distance, "Let yourself in!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James complied, opening the door to a room awash with the delightful smell of what Qrow was cooking. Somehow, he managed to be both more relaxed and more on edge than before. Qrow smiled at him as he entered, one hand on a wooden spoon and the other outstretched to greet James while he stirred his pot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi Qrow- um- these are for you," James greeted nervously, "Normally I think you're supposed to bring wine or something but I know you've been trying to..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"These are great!" Qrow picked the mood right back up again where James had dropped it, "Thanks, most people wouldn't even think about it. Could you watch the stove for me while I fill up a jug?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It ended up being a large glass but Qrow managed to fit them all in and place the flowers on his window sill. In the meantime James gently stirred the saucepan. It was pasta- a normal, healthy amount of pasta for two grown men- in some kind of tomato based sauce. James couldn't eat it. He couldn't eat in front of Qrow. Qrow touched him on the shoulder and nudged him away from the hob just as he realised that, so that he could divide the pasta into two bowls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not the fancy Atlas food you're used to, I'm sure, but I've known this recipe for a while now," Qrow chucked, guiding James over to his little dorm room table, "You can take your coat off if you want, it gets warm in here once the heating kicks in." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did he want to take his coat off? The whole point of it was to keep his recent development hidden. Keeping it on would just draw more attention to himself. So tentatively, he removed the long white garment and hung it over the back of his chair. Luckily, Qrow knew just how to keep a conversation going so he didn't feel awkward for a moment. They perused a range of topics: things that had happened in the past year, sparkling apple (the drink of the evening), life in Atlas, the time Glynda found six students stuck in the same hollow tree, the weirdest weapon a student had ever tried to build, whether it was actually legal to eat off a weaponised spoon in a restaurant or your own home. The list went on. James tried to make his lack of eating look natural, taking tiny, half bites and then continuing to speak. He could feel the bowl starting to go cold in his hands and Qrow was already almost done with his when his own looked barely touched. It was just some pasta. No big deal, no need to freak out. James was just eating normally with a good friend of his for the first time in over a year. His friend made this for him. He should stop worrying about it, stab some pasta on his fork, and fucking eat it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, that wasn't so hard. He at least made it look semi-normal. All that was left to do now was do that once more, then he would have eaten half, which was adequate. He could tell Qrow he had a big lunch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Want me to take that for you?" Qrow asked him after a lull in the conversation, gesturing to his bowl, a little less than half full by now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, no, it's okay," James waved Qrow's hand away and picked it up for himself, ready to take it over to the sink when he remembered he would have to discreetly scrape out the leftovers first. It wasn't worth keeping them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Qrow's back was turned, he shot towards the bin and scraped the remaining pasta into it, guilt swirling through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Y'know, I was worried about you, Jim," Qrow told him, and James could sense his cautiousness in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I realised I'd never seen you eat before- I thought I was about to make a fool of myself inviting a man who can't eat cause of your," he gestured on his own body to his right side, "To dinner. Tried scoping you out to see if I could catch you at lunch or something but you're real good disappearing off." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Highlight of the job," James brushed it off like it was nothing when in reality, it wasn't nothing. Someone had noticed his behaviours, someone was close to the truth. His gut twisted on itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I eat at odd hours and never at the same time twice." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow let out a quick exhale that counted as a laugh, "Y'know, you'd think Atlas is the kind of place where you have a timetable for once, not like out in the field against the Grimm. Bet you get hungry a lot." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James started to feel weirdly defensive. Something ugly coiled in his chest and it didn't like all the questions Qrow was asking him or the conclusions he was drawing. It wanted Qrow to shut up and go away and stop sticking his nose in everybody else's business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I keep a granola bar in my coat at all times," James answered simply, leaving the bowl next to the sink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow nodded, "Good. The last thing you want is to be stressed and hungry. It's the pits. Just make sure you do eat." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James knew Qrow was just trying to empathise but the thing in his chest told him Qrow was poking fun at him, mocking him. Who said he was stressed? Who said he was hungry? James knew the last thing he was doing was not eating. Did Qrow know? Was the whole point of this just to tease him about it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will. Thank you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That came out more forcefully than he intended but there was no going back now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This was lovely but I should be going." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door was that way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait! James I didn't mean it how you think, I'm just worried about you," Qrow tried to stop him but James just brushed him off, "You don't ever eat and I don't want you getting sick!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am not sick, I am not stressed, I am perfectly fine and I wish everyone would just stop fussing over me and leave me alone!" James snapped so loud he was sure the people in the next dorm heard. He didn't care though, he needed to be away from Qrow and the shocked look on Qrow's face that broke him in two, away from anyone. As he stormed away, he felt the chasm inside begin to open up again and felt the familiar compulsion to get to his quarters as quickly as possible. It was going to be a long night and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed comfort, to feel safe and to forget himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James tried to hush his own sobs by pushing his face further into his arms. His pain was physical and emotional and nothing could soothe it. He couldn't curl up anymore, his stomach was in too much pain, the organ inside distended and stretched by the sheer volume of food he'd demanded that it hold. So was his throat, exacerbated by the crying. Even his jaw hurt from the stress of his latest entranced session. The fridge he was collapsed against had been full when he started but now much less than half of the contents remained. Why couldn't he just stop? He didn't understand. Why couldn't he just tell himself "No" and go back to bed like a normal person? For a man with a passive semblance meant to help with things like this, he was so weak willed it was embarrassing. There was no pleasure to be found here anymore and if there was, it wasn't worth what he went through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A knock at the door. This was the last thing he needed at this hour. Who was it? An Ace Op? Was there some national emergency? He hadn't received any word by scroll whatsoever. Either way, he could hardly move from the pain his body was in. Perhaps if he just stayed quiet they'd leave or try calling him. Curse him for being such a coward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tried the door handle and found it was locked. Thank the brother gods he'd remembered that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence after. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence continued for quite a while until James saw the thing that he dreaded most in the world at that moment. A single jet black crow flew right through his open kitchen window. Qrow. Fuck. James wished his stomach had torn itself open while he was gorging himself so he wouldn't have to face Qrow. The bird flew into the next room and materialised itself into Qrow but for some reason, Qrow hadn't seen him yet and he was holding something which James soon recognised to be his coat. He watched Qrow through the old foggy glass window that was in the wall between the two rooms. Of course, he'd left his coat behind when he ran from their dinner. Based on how awfully it went, it didn't feel right to call it a date. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was Qrow looking for his cloakroom? Maybe if he was lucky, Qrow would just find the room, return his coat, and fly out. Ssh, Qrow was speaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"This place is fancier than I remember. Real big too. If I was the General, I wouldn't put that photo there though. It belongs on the opposite wall..." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was Qrow critiquing his interior decorating? James let out a painful splutter of a laugh before clapping his hands to his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"James, you there?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow's footsteps fast approached and then came to an abrupt halt right in front of him. James didn't have the heart to look him in the eye so turned his head away. He saw out of the corner of his eye that his coat had dropped to the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Brothers, James, what happened? Are you hurt?" Qrow crouched next to him and was about to reach out and touch his shoulder when James swatted his hand away. He didn't want Qrow to touch him in case he infected him with his uncleanly freakishness. If Qrow touched him, all of this would become real. Qrow would feel the softness of his arm that hadn't been there a year ago, the product of his disgusting habit quite literally in the flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, James, you have to tell me what's wrong." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm what's wrong, Qrow! I'm the problem!" he couldn't hide from the truth any longer, he had to let it free. Another compulsion against his own will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm disgusting, every part of me is disgusting so please, please don't touch me. Don't come near me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The more he left his mouth open, the more came loose. Everything he had crammed in and forced down was finally springing free and it hurt. Every moment of it hurt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow's hand hovered and then slowly fell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know that's not true, James, so help me understand why you think it's true," his voice was soft and calming, he spoke slowly and softly. James wasn't sure why, but he was expecting him to be mad. He had been so ready for Qrow to up and leave that this response knocked the air from his lungs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I-" the words got stuck in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to say it. He swallowed the words back down and tried something different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Check the bin." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow probably understood there and then, but he followed James's request and went over to the large rubbish bin to open the lid. Tears welled in his eyes as he saw Qrow's lips form a soft 'o' and he closed the lid again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"From here?" Qrow asked, pointing to the fridge behind him. James could only nod between his sobs. Qrow knew. Not everything, but he knew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Qrow seemed to think for a short while after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you get up? We can stay here if you want but I figured your bed is probably more comfortable for you." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James nodded slowly and heaved himself up. Every movement he made jolted his poor, abused stomach. Best make his moving time quick. James had been in his most comfortable clothes to begin with, so he just sat himself down on the bed while Qrow undid his shoes and tried not to look down at the rest of his body until Qrow was finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lie back," Qrow instructed as he travelled to the other side of the bed. James did so and was greeted by a shift in weight beside him which turned out to be Qrow mirroring him on the other side. James stared up at the ceiling with dull eyes, unsure what came now. He'd be happy if Qrow just left but some secret selfish part of him wanted Qrow to stay at his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry about it, okay? It's a one time thing and I'm not going to say anything and I'm pretty sure it's happened to everyone at some point," Qrow tried to reassure him as best he could but James could just feel the tears pinpricking his eyes all over again. Qrow thought this was a one time thing. Qrow didn't know the half of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"First time in the mess hall at Beacon I nearly made myself throw up. I couldn't believe so much food existed in one place." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not like that," James sniffled, feeling every bit the useless piece of crap he was. The grand General of Atlas reduced to a snivelling mess over something so insignificant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When you said you didn't want me getting sick, I shouted at you because- oh Qrow I am sick. I'm sick and I don't remember what it's like to not be." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it was. The thing he'd been denying for years. He was sick, really sick. Maybe he'd always been sick. Maybe he would always be sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not a one time thing, I- I can't stop. Every time I try it just gets worse. I mean look at me, I'm pathetic." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James spat pure venom at himself. He'd long kept all this buried somewhere it would never see the light of day. Or so he thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You gained weight, it's no big deal," Qrow shrugged, his own eyes similarly staring at the ceiling as his hands felt their way into James's hair, fingertips barely gracing his scalp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No big deal?" James couldn't believe his ears, "It's disgusting." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was. Absolutely and completely so. What made Qrow think otherwise? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why? What's so bad about it?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That made him stop. He was so frightened of something that he ran and hid from it but in his squirming he never stopped to consider why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's unhealthy- the General of Atlas can't be fat! What does that say about the Kingdom?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't know. What does it say about the Kingdom? That their leader takes so much weight on his own shoulders that he has to resort to self harm to keep going to keep them safe?" Qrow suggested, "No one said anything about how unhealthy my drinking was. If I didn't have aura, my liver would be non-functioning by now. If you're disgusting, I am too. Everything you say about yourself applies to me too."  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Qrow, no. You're not- you're not disgusting. Far from it. It's nothing like you- it's my fault and I should know better," James scolded himself like a child once again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So you're saying it was my fault and I should have known better when my drinking got out of hand? Alright, I can take that, it's not like I haven't thought that myself before," Qrow was still so lighthearted in comparison to James who was utterly distraught. He wanted to blame the culprit; himself; but whenever he said anything, Qrow just reflected it back onto himself. He stayed quiet for a long time. The uncomfortable fullness in his midsection wasn't going away any time soon, he was just lucky he hadn't gotten any cramps yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not self harm," he said after a while, "I don't cut myself or burn myself. I just eat everything I can find." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"When I drank, James, I did it because it felt good. I got a buzz out of it. Then I drank more and the buzz stopped but I kept drinking even though it wasn't fun anymore and it hurt me, my relationships, my family. I felt like I needed to drink to punish myself for every time me and my semblance had hurt them. I didn't even realise that in doing that I was only hurting them more. I wanted to get hurt," Qrow explained, turning his face to James as they locked teary eyes. Qrow had begun to weep now too and he caught his tears on the back of his sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't cut myself or burn myself. I just drank all the liquor I could find. You're harming yourself by overeating, you know you are. I found you crying on the kitchen floor in so much pain you could barely move. You wouldn't be there if you didn't want to make yourself feel something." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow was right once again. James didn't want to look at Qrow during his confession, so his eyes drifted back to the ceiling. There was a certain intimacy in how the pair of them mingled their fucked-upness together. It made him feel less alone and his freakishness was somehow less freaky. Right now, it was like looking at a brick wall and wondering which brick he wanted to pull out and talk about first. He was afraid of pulling out the wrong one and having the whole wall collapse on him. James reached his hand up next to his head for Qrow to take, their fingers gently curling into each other.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where do I start? There's so much that even I don't know." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Start with tonight and work backwards. Take your time, we have hours." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James shook his head, "I can't start there. There's too much." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Alright," Qrow nodded, "Start at the first time you remember there being an issue. Only go into as much detail as you're happy with." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It was..." James thought hard, "After Beacon, I think. I started having these memories show up. Ones from the past and I couldn’t sleep because every time I tried to I’d just replay everything I wanted to forget over and over. I remember being really unhappy with... myself. Beacon was the biggest failure I ever caused- I caused it. Then the embargo, that was me too. I wanted to do good but everyone was so unhappy no matter what I did. There was this empty pit inside me, a tiny speck at first but it grew. I tried to contain it and ignore it but it wasn't satisfied. Uh, before that- the Fall, my diet wasn't normal either. I lived off the Academy mess hall for lunch, my only meal of the day, five days a week. At the weekends and at night I'd control myself with an apple, maybe a handful of nuts. Maybe. I was hiding from what happened before. My prosthetics. I didn't like them. I still don't like them." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James's teeth gritted as he clenched a metal fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hate them. They're not me. They're not real, they’re a reminder of everything that happened. I just woke up and they appeared and they were forever." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It wasn't your choice," Qrow filled in, thumb rubbing over James's knuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, it wasn't," James agreed bitterly, "So I made how the rest of my body looked my choice. That wasn't enough. I never matched. I'm lopsided. Then I got into this habit. Every Sunday, like clockwork, I'd plan it out and I'd cook more food than I ever imagined a person could eat and just fucking... I wouldn't stop." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His toes curled at the memory, squirming around in utter hatred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And it was nice, y'know? I was out of control but also fully in control. I knew where, and when, and how and no one else knew. It was like getting high on drugs. I wasn't James Ironwood anymore, I wasn't the General anymore, I wasn't 'sir'. And because I wasn't any of those people, I didn't have those memories. I wasn't scared. I could just do what made me feel... I felt safe. I felt warm. I felt satisfied. So that's what I did." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow sighed, he knew this next part of the story from his own experiences, and prompted James on, "But then it wasn't enough." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But then it wasn't enough," James repeated, mirroring Qrow's sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was desperate, and alone, and- Brothers I sound like such a damsel in distress. The urge just crept up on me, middle of the night, middle of the week, and I went for it. It started to hurt more and more because I was eating more and more without even knowing what I was doing. I don't even remember what I ate tonight. Before I knew it, I was this fat, worthless piece of trash and none of my clothes fit and my belt needed new holes. So I got new clothes, a new uniform, and I only ate what I ate at night." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt shot right through him like it had been injected with a syringe. Finally, finally he was facing up to his actions and he hated every moment of it. It was him. He was the one who had been destroying himself in search of pleasure, later in search of the pain he felt like he deserved. He did deserve it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And then you arrived and everything should have gone back to normal but by that time normal was stuffing myself until I couldn't anymore. It's been worse these past few weeks. It's not once or twice a week anymore, it's every other night and I feel like shit and now I realise: that's why. I didn't know before but I know now." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow hummed, "You can stop there if you want. Thanks, James, for trusting me. Really. If someone found me strewn out after a night of drinking I think I'd just... turn into a bird and fly off. In fact, I think I did that a few times." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James hissed a laugh, "Can't run away when you're fat, slow, and bursting at the seams." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow pursed his lips and ignored James's little comment about himself. His self hatred was probably running real high right now, it was better he vented it out than bottled it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How are you over there? You feel sick? Need me to get you some water or tea if you have it?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James just shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you just stay here? It's starting to hurt less. Is there anything else you want to know? This is possibly the lowest point of my life so far, so go ahead." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow squeezed James's hand tighter. It was a lot to take in, which meant it must have been a lot for James to deal with, emotionally and physically. He had to pose his question delicately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you ever thought that maybe you have an eating disorder?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James's hand suddenly squeezed in tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"An eating disorder?" James swallowed thickly, "That's... but it's not about how many calories I eat. And do I look like someone with an eating disorder to you?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Qrow said firmly, "You do. Just because you're not some skinny teenager whose life revolves around the scales doesn't mean you can't have a bad relationship with food. You binge on food despite knowing it's unhealthy and you don't feel you can control yourself. It sounds like disordered eating." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James's breath was shaky with uncertainty, "How... do I stop? How do I get rid of my-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My eating disorder?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Stay calm," Qrow shuffled closer until their noses were almost touching and he could feel James's laboured breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The more scared you are, the more power it has. It's like my addiction. It's like- like the Grimm. It feeds off your fear. You can't just kill it, though, and it won't just disappear but eventually it will loosen its grip. It fucking sucks, I've been there. We'll do it together." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"How are you so good at this?" James asked Qrow after another long period of silence between them, "How do you know what to say and when to listen and what conclusions to draw?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Qrow just smiled and put his free arm behind his head, "See I have this friend, a real rational guy, uses logic and strategy and always thinks things over twice before he acts. He's smart, doesn't take any nonsense from anyone and can pull the facts out of anything. I love him to bits, but if there's one thing he can't do it's take care of himself. He'd run himself into the ground if we let him and well, we let him. Didn't even realise because he's so good at what he does the rest of the time. So I was thinking, and I thought perhaps maybe he needs a friend who can be rational and reasonable and sensible like he is for us. Course I hadn't a clue how I was supposed to do that, so I thought to myself: what would he tell me if I was struggling? How'd he help me? Well, by being rational and logical of course." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James sniffled as Qrow kept going, "If James was the one giving the advice, he'd know what to do." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned in close enough that the tips of their noses touched in an upside down eskimo kiss as Qrow whispered, "You're too hard on yourself. You scare yourself and the rest of us shitless without realising. Communication is a two way street." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Qrow winked as he saw a slight smile appear on James's face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tomorrow is Sunday. If you're up for it, you can cook and we'll eat together. I'll be there the whole time and you can back out if you want. You have to show me some of your recipes if nothing else. Deal?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>James's face flashed with hesitation, "Deal." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he shifted, he let out a little wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cramps-" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know I could always-" Qrow offered but James cut him short. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I am not a dog, Qrow, you are not giving me tummy rubs." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was the James Ironwood he knew. Eventually, James would learn to recognise himself again too.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, that happened. <br/>I wanted to write about BED because it is actually far more common in PTSD sufferers than is talked about!! I feel like it doesn't get talked about enough in general really.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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